Subconscious

Under the dark warm waters of sleep
your hands part me.
I am dreaming you anyway.


Your mouth is hot fruit, wet, strange,
night-fruit I taste with my opening mouth;
my eyes closed.


You, you. Your breath flares into fervent words
which explode in my head. Then you ask, push,
for an answer.


And this is how we sleep. You're in now, hard,
demanding; so I dream more fiercely, dream
till it hurts


that this is for real, yes, I feel it.
When you hear me, you hold on tight, frantic,
as if we were drowning.

I Love You and I Fight You

I often see how you sob over what you destroy, how you want to stop and just worship; and you do stop, and then a moment later you are at it again with a knife, like a surgeon.

What ferocity in your quest of it. You destroy and you suffer. In some strange way I am not with you, I am against you. We are destined to hold two truths. I love you and I fight you. And you, the same. We will be stronger for it, each of us, stronger with our love and our hate. When you caricature and nail down and tear apart, I hate you. I want to answer you, not with weak or stupid poetry but with a wonder as strong as your reality. I want to fight your surgical knife with all the occult and magical forces of the world."